


Bowed Before Me

by Kitsu



Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M, PWP, gigai-porn., one-night stand, passive-aggressive sex, place-holder human, slight violent themes, unrepentant smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-03
Updated: 2010-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-15 13:40:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5787277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitsu/pseuds/Kitsu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Izuru is far from the person people think he is - but he leaves them to their fantasies. There are other places in the universe where he can find outlets for his cravings. Like in the world of the living, far away from Seireitei's prying eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bowed Before Me

Everyone believe me weak. Dependent and submissive. Loyal to a fault. For the most I let them – it suits me to allow them their fantasy – because I know the truth; I may have appeared like that at one point, insecure in my own abilities, always following in greater personalities' footsteps, dependent on my superiors. However, my skills have been honed over the long years since my youth, sharpened, polished. Battle after battle has taught me that I do indeed possess a killer's instinct, though it is buried deep within me, under layers of cold pessimism and a great dislike of war and fighting. Though, push me hard enough, and it – he – will surface. The unforgiving me – the remorseless me. The me that will make you genuflect in front of me, head bowed, begging for mercy. The me that will let my sword live up to its purpose. The me that will see heads rolling.  
  
But in addition, there is another side to the unforgiving me, another side to the killer. The me that craves attention, craves the touch of others. But not in the way most expect, not from who they think. Ah, yes, I do know about the rumours – whispered little lies detailing how I was the Taichou's whore, his bitch, a dog obeying his every command. But they are wrong, Ichimaru-taichou never once looked at me in that manner. Yes, I was indeed his little pet project, but only insofar as that he was intent on breaking my mind – but not my body. Had he though of it, he probably would have tried, but his inclinations of that sort lay elsewhere. Let's say with Aizen-taichou. The extremely possessive Aizen-taicho – who would most likely have throttled Ichimaru himself had he tried anything like that with me.   
  
No, my release is, and always has been found elsewhere – among the living, in the world of the humans. Here in Seireitei, rumours would spread like a wildfire. Consequently, every time I take on a mission in the human world, one that requires me to take physical form there – necessitating the use of a gigai – I try to sneak away at some point, if only for a moment, to take what I need.  
  
Humans... So very easy to manipulate.  
  
XOXOX  
  
I remember the last time I went through the gates to the world of the living. Being a non-urgent, simple mission, I took my time in reporting back. Instead I strayed into shadier parts of the town, to an area where seedy bars riddled the landscape. One of them was a particular favourite of mine, dark, cheap, discreet. The bartender seemed to recognise me, nodding his head curtly and pouring me a glass of...well...alcohol. Something strong. Strong enough to burn my throat as I drank it.  
  
"Looking for someone?" he asked, non-committally.  
  
"Someone, yes. Not sure who yet."   
  
"Ah."  
  
It was the same old dance, the same old routine. He knew what I was looking for, and didn't really care – all he cared about was seeing to my glass being constantly topped up. Slowly, the time passed. Time... It is an uncommon sensation for a Shinigami, the way time passes in the human world. Quicker, keener, tearing away at you. Time there is out to get you. So glad I'm already dead.   
  
People flitted in and out of the dark room, vapid shades, lifeless and grey against the background dimness. None of them was what I was looking for. Not until he entered. Tall, handsome, looking powerful and impeccable. Like a corporate top. Someone like him in a place like that meant he was looking for the same thing I was. I wanted to posses him, to break him. To have him prostrate in front of me.   
  
As he sat down by the bar, I had the bartender pour him a drink on me. I did not even look up as he received it, it was not necessary, the message was clear the moment the bartender pointed me out to him. I stood to leave, paying my tab, the unspoken invitation plain. If he did not follow, it was his loss. Back to the room, I walked out, waiting in the alley behind the bar.   
  
He soon followed, staying just as silent as me. Grabbing him by the arm, I led him down the street to the closest cheap hotel. Inside the room we rented I finally turned to him. Grinning what someone would indubitably call a wicked grin, I pushed him hard, almost violently against the wall. When he opened his mouth to speak, I pulled his head down into a forceful kiss. I wanted action, not words. He seemed to get the basic idea quickly, his hands coming to rest on my back, pulling me closer, moulding our bodies together.  
  
That wouldn't work. I needed control. Needed to be the one on top. Grabbing his tie, I pulled him backward, until the back of my legs hit the edge of the bed. Still holding his tie, I stalked around him in a circle and he slowly turned with me until we had switched places. Placing a hand on his chest, I pushed hard, hard enough to make him stumble backward.   
  
Laying flat on his back, he stared up at me, challenge burning in his eyes. If I wanted control, I would have to fight for it, that much was clear. Or I could just overwhelm him completely.   
  
Smiling that same wicked, predatory smile again, I got on my knees, crawling up along the length of his body, until I was sitting across his hips, palms flat against his chest. His shirt was of the finest quality linen, soft to the touch. It felt expensive. Soft. It had to go. Locking eyes with him, I straightened up, and pulled the civilian-type shirt I had donned for my mission over my head, flinging away to land on the floor somewhere.  
  
I could feel his gaze on my skin, warm, burning. Wanting. Years of sword-practice had left me thin, but toned. Strong. The gigai I was in was modelled on my true form, doing it perfect justice. It even felt just like my real body.   
  
His hands moved slowly up my sides, feeling the skin underneath. When high enough, he thumbed my nipples, fingers rough, arousing. I flung my head backward, a low moan drawn from my throat – I had always been sensitive there. As my senses returned to me, I straightened up again and glared at him. This was my game, and he wasn't fucking it up for me.   
  
I started pulling at his shirt, loosening it somewhat from his slacks, but it still wouldn't come off. Irritated, I glared again, gaining a chuckle from him. His hands swatted mine away, and nimble fingers did quick work of the shirt's buttons. He lifted himself up just enough to wrangle out of the shirt and jacket, and then he dropped them by the bed. His torso was just as sculpted as it had promised to be when he walked into the bar. I licked my lips, wanting to taste his skin. Leaning down, I let my tongue and teeth run along the line of his shoulder, up his neck until my mouth rested right below his ear, feeling the slight scratch of a day's worth of stubble against my cheek. I moved to bite gently on his earlobe, tracing the outer cone of his ear with my teeth. His breathing quickened, causing a slight smile to tug at the corners of my mouth.  
  
I started to moved back down again, lapping at his skin, salty sweat piquant on my tongue. My mouth drifted to the side, finding a pert nipple to play with. Biting it gently, I felt his muscles tense under my touch. I wasn't the only sensitive one, it seemed. I moved my hand to play over his other nipple, highly enjoying the slight pleasure-sounds falling from his lips, rumbling through his chest. There was power even in his moans.  
  
His hands, probably completely unconsciously, came to rest at my sides again and I stopped what I was doing to swat them away. Again, he seemed to get the idea, reaching up over his head to grab hold of the bars of the headboard instead. I smiled in approval and returned to what I had been been doing. Soon I let my hand drift again, further down, to stroke along the already hard cock barely covered by his slacks. Once again his breath sped up, hitching in his throat. Those little whimpers drove needles of pure lust straight to my core. I had always enjoyed vocal lovers, their sounds of pleasure edging me on.  
  
I shifted further down, snaking my way along his prone form, swiping my tongue across heated skin. My tongue dipped into his navel before continuing downwards. I could feel fine hairs leading the way down against my tongue. I stopped stroking him through his slacks only too unzip them and pull them and his underwear off his hips. I wasn't disappointed, what I had felt through the trousers had given the right impression. Just the right size, hard and standing proud. I wanted to taste it, to lick it right then and there, and I did. I ran my tongue from root to tip, feeling it harden even further. I swirled my tongue around the tip, dipping my tongue into the slight indentation at the top. Relaxing my throat-muscles, I slid my mouth down his length, taking him all in. His unabashed moans sent hot shivers down my back, spurring me on.   
  
I loved the feeling of him in my mouth, naked, salty. Having him pinned under me gave me exactly the sort of feeling of control I craved. My movements became more insistent, my temperature rose, skin flushed, lust filled me. I wanted more, more, more. There was one thing I had come here for, and I was going to have it.  
  
Over the past years I had learned that in the human world, whenever meeting someone in that way, one had better be careful, as they said. Not that it mattered to me, human diseases were of no concern to me, but pretending to care just made things easier. It sets the other part's mind to ease. I rummaged through my pocket, producing a small plastic packet and a small tube. A condom and some lubrication bought from a wending-machine in the hotel's lobby – yes, that was the kind of place that hotel was. Having left the small parcels on his stomach, I wrangled out of my trousers, dropping them by the side of the bed with the rest of our clothing. Socks and shoes followed, as did his. Standing naked in front of him I smirked again. His silence pleased me, though I could see the open admiration in his eyes. It pleased me even more.  
  
Kneeling between his legs, I reached for the condom, opening the packet. Placing it on the head of his cock, I rolled it down just a small distance. Then I leaned in again and used my mouth to roll it down almost all the way, lips and tongue nimble – I ignored the taste of latex in my mouth, unpleasant, but worth it as my actions earned me a smirk and a rumbling chuckle from him. I grinned around his cock, before sitting back up and using my hands to pull the condom all the way on.  
  
I grabbed the small tube of lubrication and moved to sit across his hips instead of his thighs. Knowing my own limits, I knew I needed little in the way of preparation, but if I actually took my time, I would enjoy myself even more. Kneeling, putting my weight on my upturned heels, I balanced precariously. I opened the tube and poured the content into my hand, cold on heated skin. I dropped the tube on the bed and placing the free hand on his hard, toned chest for support and leaned marginally forwards. The slicked hand I moved behind myself, pushing slippery fingers against my own opening. Tight and warm. Pushing in, I locked eyes with him again. Small whimpers escaped my lips as I prepared myself for his cock. In the end I bit my lip to keep from right out moaning.   
  
His eyes were shining with lust within moments as the show I was giving him served its intended purpose. He was gripping the headboard so hard his knuckles had long since turned white, but he still kept his hands to himself. Lifting myself just a bit more, I got a hold of his cock and placed it against my entrance. Pushing down slightly, I took him into me, felt him fill me up. Dropping my chin to my torso, I placed both hands on his chest to support myself. Slowly, I started to move, deliberate achingly drawn-out movements. Muscles played under my skin as sweat coated it. My fingers dug into his chest, nails biting in hard.   
  
Judging from his tense jawline, he was grinding his teeth together. His whole form had gone rigid and his knuckles were even whiter than they had been a moment earlier. I felt like granting him a small mercy, so I reached up and wrapped my fingers around his wrist. Urging him to let go of the bar, I led his hand to my hip, allowing him to touch me. His other hand came down on its own, digging into my other hip. As I kept moving, his hands helped support me and the slight sting of his nails drove spikes of pleasure-pain straight to my centre.  
  
Slowly, I sped up, movements more intense, more urgent. Straightening up again, I let his hands guide me up and down. My own came to rest on my chest, playing with my nipples, twisting and scratching gently. Wanting to feel more of a sting, I raked them across my torso, up my neck, down again over my taut belly. Muscles twitched under the sharp sensation.  
  
Riding him with only thought of my own pleasure, of chasing it until then end, I felt the control I always craved within my grasp. I was the driving force behind this tryst, I was the one who decide what would be given and what would be taken. Nothing would happen outside of my control, not like that time...   
  
Within my control was also the power to allow or deny him orgasm, depending on my mood. That particular day I felt gracious. I made eye contact again, taking care to make a show of my wandering hands. As they trailed downwards, I arched my back and let me head drop backward. My hair was plastered to my face by the thin layer of sweat covering my skin. I knew I looked absolutely debauched, wicked and wanton, haughty as I stared down my nose at him. As my fingers curled around my cock, my eyelids fluttered shut and I moaned.   
  
His grip on my hips tightened even further, bruising in strength by then, but still he didn't move his hands. Good boy. My performance was pulling him with me in my desire and he was panting hard through clenched teeth, eyes glazed over with lust. His forehead was just as sweat-slicked as mine, black hair plastered to it. The further I pushed him, the more his head tilted backward, exposing his neck to me. I let my free hand drop to his chest, trailing upward until I could curl my fingers around his throat. Squeezing gently, I watched as his breath caught, his jaw dropping open in a silent moan. Letting my hand rest there, a slight threat of violence, I started moving in earnest. My other hand was still on my own cock, providing just the right amount of friction and heat.  
  
His hands on my hips became braver, pushing me down with every thrust, driving his cock harder, deeper. By that point, I didn't care. All I wanted was to get lost in the rhythm, to find the release which was already so close I could taste it. Shifting around imperceptibly, I managed to position myself better, and the next thrust hit just right. A strained whimper pushed past my lips as the tightly coiled heat gathered in the pit of my stomach snapped, forcing wave upon wave of white hot ecstasy through me. My whole body tensed, muscles contracted, strained, and biting down on my lip, I came hard in my own hand, come sticky on my fingers.   
  
As I licked come from my fingers, nonsensical words fell from his lips, calling me a heavenly whore and a sinful god. I had to smile, he didn't know how right he was. Soon I felt him follow me over the edge as he pushed in one last time. He tensed, his back arching and his cock pulsated against my insides, his hands on me beyond forceful. His moan as he came hard was sweet music in my ears.   
  
Looking down at him as he struggled to regain his breath, I allowed myself a slight intimacy, breaking my one of my own rules. I leaned in and gently stroked my lips over his, tasting him. It only lasted for a few short seconds before I straightened up again and pulled away from him. As his cock slipped out of me, I hissed, the sensation slightly uncomfortable, raw and aching.  
  
Slowly, I got to my feet and stretched, arms towards the sky. Tilting my head first to one side, then to the other, I cracked my neck, working out the kinks our little session had left there. Then I bent down and sifted through the clothing on the floor, picking out my own items and dressed hurriedly.   
  
With my back to the man on the bed I made to leave, but a hand clasped around my wrist stopped me. Looking over my shoulder, I glared at him, my expression having already turned grim, solemn, familiar.   
"Will I ever see you around again, kid?" he asked, hesitant, most likely put off by my sudden cold demeanour, but still with something akin to hope in his voice.  
  
"No." Not in this lifetime. I had finished with him, his role had been fulfilled, and no begging would make me stay. I had become remorseless again.  
  
Shrugging off his hand, I left without even looking back.  
  
XOXOX  
  
Upon returning to Seireitei, I found myself again being able to carry myself a little straighter, to keep my head higher. People's arrogant, contemptuous, over-bearing glares didn't weigh as heavily on my shoulders as they had before I left. They might still have though me weak and indecisive, but I'd been reminded that I am able to make them all bow before me if I wish - either as simpering, beaten and broken soldiers at my sword's mercy or as lovers begging for my touch.  
  
FIN.


End file.
